


Rest While You Can

by TheShadowsInMySoul



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Post Season 1, Thunderblink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowsInMySoul/pseuds/TheShadowsInMySoul
Summary: "You can't do everything yourself."





	Rest While You Can

A deep frost had already set into the dead grass of the new Underground headquarters when the first snowflakes fell. The sun was still hours away from rising over the horizon, but within the rooms of the abandoned schoolhouse many mutants now called home a few people stirred. John stood leaning against the wooden door frames near what the group had dubbed the meeting room, but what was really just a torn up chemistry lab. The only good part of this school was that in all the chaos that had disrupted the world, there were still a few working water faucets. It wasn't much, but it was a start John thought, sighing deeply while rubbing his face in exhaustion.  
Ever since Lorna left to join the HellFire Club with quite a few of their most valuable resistance fighters, everything has been off. Every person who had been in the Underground could feel the effects. Marcos was off in his own world, only emerging from his claimed supply closet when absolutely essential. With one leader gone, and another incapacitated, the pressure has been on.  
John had been left to bear the burden the others had left to him, but certain people have been helpful. Since Lorna left, a few of the teenagers had began training again in the gymnasium which kept the kids out of trouble, and kept the parents free to help rebuild. The Struckers have been creating a proper clinic in the schools abandoned nurses office, even managing to find a few bottles of meds left over.  
But then there was Clarice. Clarice, who had done anything he asked. Clarice, who was making sure all day to day duties were taken care of while he planned for the next disaster. Clarice, who.. Who was walking towards him now.  
The distinct tread gave her away, along with a smell John couldn't identify. She hesitated a few paces behind where he stood. "Sorry, I would have knocked, but no door," she muttered, gesturing to the empty hinges. With a huffy laugh, John turned to  
face her.  
Clarice looked exhausted, and John couldn't blame her. She had been on the run since she was 15, in prison after that,  
and now she was on the run again. She never stopped fighting. Under her eyes were distinct purple bruises that were darker  
than her hair, and her shoulders slumped in an almost non discernible way. Clarice's clothes were also hanging off her shoulders  
and hips in an unhealthy way. This seemed to be a common trend around camp since they started rationing their remaining  
food stock, and even that was running short.  
"Stop thinking so loud, you're giving me a headache."  
"When was the last time you slept?" John questioned, shuffling closer to her. Clarice grinned sardonically.  
"When was the last time you slept, hotshot? I haven't seen you leave this planning room in days, hell, maybe weeks," Clarice fired back, and started again immediately when she saw the frown lines on his forehead. "John, you can't do everything yourself. You maybe be bullet proof, but Zingo could push you over right now. It's time to take a break and regroup when the sun is up, at least."  
Clarice could feel his hesitation, just as she had anticipated. Extending a hand in his direction, she gave a stern look in his direction. John gave in right after that, not feeling up to a fight. Clarice gripped his hand and slowly started down the hall towards the group rooms that have taken over the classrooms in one wing of the school. As they slowly made their way down the halls, John looked into the rooms that were full of families huddled together for warmth. Yes they were cold, but at least they're safe. For now.  
They walk all the way down to a door at the very end of the hall, sandwiched between a half demolished lab and the last family boarding room. John glanced at Clarice questioningly, but when she didn't move, he reached for the door handle.  
The screech it emitted told him that not many people had been in and out of here in a while, and what awaited him surprised him even more than Clarice leading him to a random door in the hide out. It was an old teachers office, obvious from the crumbling bookshelves and rusted filing cabinets. The entire room, though physically cold, felt warm from the dark wood floors, dark coloured walls, and a curtain blocking the icy exterior world from view. On the floor was a scrounged up gym mat. On top of that was one of the blankets they had managed to scavenge from the old base, and a balled up sweater tied into some semblance of a pillow.  
"Sleep John, you need it."  
Staggering forward, John nodded robotically. He kicked off his boots at the door, wandered to the mat, and fell into a sitting position. "Only if you sleep too."  
Clarice looked startled at this, and shook her head, "It's too cold, and my mind is going a thousand miles an hour. It's probably better that at least one of us is awake anyways."  
John shook his head at the purple haired woman and patted the mat next to him in an invitation. "If I sleep, you sleep. There's room for two." Clarice shrugged, looking a little lost as she slowly slid off her shoes and approached the mat. She sat exactly where he had gestured, and even when John laid down to get comfortable, she didn't move.  
He can understand her hesitation. They never had a real chance to talk about what's happened between them before everything went to hell. The two of them seem to have an unspoken agreement that they would take it slow and see where it went when they had time, but there had been no time.  
Gently, John wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her down onto the floor. Her head rested just under his chin, and he can feel her hair tickling his face. "You can't do everything yourself, Clarice. The worlds problems will still be there in the morning." Clarice let out a quiet snicker, and adjusted herself to a more comfortable position, though she never moved her head from where it was on his chest.  
Clarice felt a lot better, in that moment, than she had in a long time. Since before she ran away from her foster home, that's for sure. John was practically a human heater, and as he traced his fingers over the arm she had slung around his waist, she could feel the cold seep out of her bones. That was the last thing she remembered before drifting off.  
John could immediately feel Clarice go slack when she fell into a deep sleep. Her face was less grim, more peaceful when she was sleeping. He wished he could let her sleep forever if she was happier in the oblivion of dreams. The very least he could do for her right now is give her a few hours of rest. The very least John could do for himself is get a few hours of rest. After adjusting the sweater under his head, John let his eyes flutter shut, and then there was nothing.


End file.
